


Open Book

by Chthonia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-06-09
Updated: 2003-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-20 07:44:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chthonia/pseuds/Chthonia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucius and Draco corner Hermione in Flourish and Blotts. Mudbloods with secrets really shouldn't go shopping alone...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open Book

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hijja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hijja/gifts).



> I'm dedicating this one to Hijja, beta-reader extraordinaire and author of some of the best Malfoy-fic out there.
> 
> This is Lucius' perspective; if his rather warped view on life and Hermione is likely to offend you, be warned. ;-)
> 
> _Written before Ootp, and originally posted at[FictionAlley](http://www.fictionalley.org/authors/chthonia/OB01a.html)_

 

They say that chance favours the prepared mind...

I hear my son's familiar drawl at the back of Flourish and Blotts, and stop to listen. He's behind a long bookcase, talking to the Mudblood. They are hidden from view.

How very convenient.

"Guessing at the set books, Granger?  Or have the teachers given their pet a head start as usual?"

"Go away, Malfoy. Or don't you have anything better to do than stalk around and insult people?" The irritation in her voice is unmistakable, but there's something guarded about her tone.  So she's hiding something?  Interesting.

"I can't help it if you happen to be in my way," says Draco, his sneer as evident as if I could see it. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Funnily enough, I'm looking for a book," she replies.  "Isn't that what people normally do in bookshops?"

I suppress a smile.  The Mudblood's tongue is as sharp as her wits are alleged to be - sharp enough to give Draco a hard time, anyhow.  But then, she's had four years of practice.  And I've had four years of hearing about it.  Four years too many.

It's high time my son learned how to deal with such things.  There is no room for weaklings with the Dark Lord risen again.

"You're on your own?" Draco asks.  "I never thought I'd see _you_ here without your little friends to protect you."

"I do have my own life, Malfoy."

"So why are you risking it by coming here, Granger?  You'd be safer staying with the Muggles where you belong."

I have to strain to catch his words. That's good - so he has learned some caution from that stupid incident on the train. He lowers his voice further.

"My father says that by Christmas all the Mudbloods will be far too scared to stay around.  So you'd better watch your back, if you know what's good for you."

Perhaps not so cautious, then, although the filial loyalty is rather touching. And he's obviously hit the mark.  When she speaks the quiet fury in her voice could cut diamond.

"I am a _witch_ , and I will come here if I want to! I will not be scared away by you, or your stupid threats, or your horrible father!"

That strikes me as a good moment to make an entrance.

I replace the book I've been pretending to browse, cast a short-range Silencing Charm, and walk around the bookcase. The Mudblood has her back to me. She's glaring at Draco. No one else is in sight.

"Ah, there you are Draco," I say languidly.

She visibly jumps, then turns slowly to face me.

 _So you're not scared, Mudblood?_

"Hello, Father."  Draco smirks in acknowledgement, clearly enjoying her reaction as much as I am.

It's always fascinating to see how one's prey responds, and I've had years to study all the subtle variations. This one changes swiftly from confusion to alarm. She glances back past Draco, and he casually reaches out to rest his hand on the opposite bookcase. No escape there. That was smoothly done; perhaps there's hope for the boy after all.

She turns towards me, head tilted to the side and eyes slightly unfocused. Ah... she's listening, realising that she can't hear the quiet murmuring of other customers.  Realising that they won't be able to hear her, either. When she meets my eyes her fear is bleaker - perhaps she _is_ as intelligent as those Muggle-loving fools at the Ministry keep telling me.

But as she stands there, frozen to the spot and clutching a book to her breast like a shield, her expression shifts again.  Most wizards would never have caught that glimmer of defiance in her eyes.  It's hard not to laugh, really.  What else would you expect from a Gryffindor?  Not so intelligent then, but definitely more interesting.

I smile.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"

Their twin frowns of disgust at the word ‘friend' are rather comical.

"She's not a friend, Father," says Draco quickly. "She just happened to be here when I came to look for that book I've been after."

"And ‘she' is?"

I know who she is, of course. I've not forgotten the impudent way that bushy head bobbed up and down in front of us throughout the entire World Cup Final.  One day soon, those officials who saw fit to let a Mudblood into the Top Box are going to be very, very sorry.

"I'm Hermione Granger." Although her voice trembles, the defiance is clear.

"Granger?  The Mudblood?"

That delicious mixture of fear and anger is now spiced with a dash of humiliation. Good. It's time she learned her place.

I pace towards her, stopping just as she starts to edge backwards.  It seems that her comfort zone is about six feet, at least where I'm concerned.  That's fine by me - I have no wish to be any closer to her, either. But I take one more step forwards. She squirms a little, but doesn't move.  Backing into Draco is evidently not her idea of safety.

A note of desperation betrays her show of righteous indignation as she makes a pitiful attempt to get away.

"Well, I have better things to do than stand here while you insult me, so if you'll excuse me I'll just leave you to it..."

She tries to turn away, but she can't seem to move her feet.  Such a useful little spell, that.  Done properly, they can hardly tell there's more than their fear stopping them.  And I've had plenty of practice at doing it properly.

Her eyes widen in fear.  I permit myself a smile.

"Leaving so soon, Miss Granger? But we've only just met. Don't they teach anything of etiquette at Hogwarts these days?"

She reaches for her wand.

Idiot child.  What does she think I'm going to do to her here?  And what does she think she could do to me?

I treat her to my most baleful glare.

"I suggest you put that away, Miss Granger. Being arrested for attacking a friend of the Minister could seriously damage your _perfect_ record.  And Hogwarts prefects should really set a better example than that, don't you think?"

Draco grins at that.  It's so gratifying to share a sense of humour with one's son.

She keeps hold of her wand, but she takes my meaning.

_Yes, Mudblood, your situation is hopeless.  Why don't you just accept that?_

But not too quickly.  That streak of defiance is rather entertaining.

"What do you want?"  So she can speak.  And she's not foolish enough to beg \- I will do as I please, and she knows it.  And still she resists so enticingly!

"What do I want?" I echo. "Just a little chat, now that we've finally been introduced.  I've been hearing so much about you."

That doesn't reassure her.  Nor was it intended to.

I savour her wide-eyed terror as I raise my wand.

 _"Accio."_   The merest flick is all it takes to rip the book from her grasp.  I catch it easily.

There's nothing she can do but stand there, arms folded across her chest in a pathetic attempt to feel less exposed. She's changed since I saw her last. She's done something with those ridiculous teeth, and it seems she's finally attempting to control that hair. Her robe rather suits her. It's cut from a light summer fabric... and it shows off her trembling beautifully.

She might actually pass for a witch, if her every gesture and nuance of posture didn't scream out that she doesn't belong. An abomination, yet she seems to think that the approval of those Hogwarts fools gives her a place in society. And Draco was telling me that she's consorting with the Bulgarian Seeker?  The Krums ought to know better.

I glance down at the book and raise my eyebrows.

"Hippogriffs, Miss Granger?  But aren't you already an expert on Hippogriffs?"

She colours, but determinedly holds my gaze. How delightful! If only she knew how rarely people do that.

"Yes," I continue, "I knew that idiot Hagrid couldn't have prepared his defence of the creature himself.  And it _was_ you helping him, wasn't it?"

I smile indulgently at her.  She pales.

"Oh, you needn't worry. That detail you dug up on Subsection 7A of the ICW Code of Diminished Responsibility almost caused me some difficulty, but I won't hold that against you.  I do so enjoy a challenge."

Such intoxicating confusion.  I glance at Draco; I hope he is appreciating this.  He will learn to be a connoisseur of fear.

"Of course," I tell her, "you know you never really stood a chance.  You're completely out of your depth... but I suppose that's not surprising, given your background. You can't learn everything from books, Miss Granger.  When it comes to how the world really works, you're completely ignorant."

Her eyes flash - I've touched a nerve.  Clearly the Mudblood doesn't like having her intellect questioned.

"At least I'm not stupid enough to believe all that pure-blood rubbish!"

The self-righteous little bitch!  I almost curse her on the spot, but just about manage to stop myself. Losing control over a petty insult would be a poor example to Draco. I lower my wand.

"That is something else you clearly know nothing about," I say quietly. "Are you really foolish enough to think you belong here?"

She's holding up her wand defensively, but there's pure terror in her eyes.

_Yes, Mudblood, do think about who you're speaking to before you open that big mouth._

Doesn't she realise how easy it would be for Draco to reach out and pluck away her wand?  I signal ‘no'.  There are more interesting ways to handle this.

I laugh at her.

"Really, Miss Granger.  What on earth do you think I'm going to do to you in such a public place?"

I leave that to her imagination - she will picture her own worst nightmares far more vividly than I could.  Public places can be so remarkably private, can't they?  Especially with the judicious application of a Repelling Charm or two.

Her fear and her anger and her helplessness fuse as she searches in vain for a reply.  She hates me.  Maybe even as much as I hate her.  I like that - unbalanced relationships can be so tedious.

How I long to break her here and now!

But I won't.  Such succulent terror deserves to be savoured slowly.

And besides, I haven't forgotten about her curious choice of reading matter.

I flip through the book.

" _How to Heal your Hippogriff_ ," I read.  I glance at her sharply. "Do you have a Hippogriff that needs healing?  You of all people should know the penalties for keeping a magical beast in a Muggle area."

Silence.  But her sudden tension is of a different quality to what went before.  This time her fear is not for herself.

What an unexpected gift!  The most exquisite terror comes when they know they'll still have something to lose even after I've done my worst.  I haven't seen that for far, far too long.

I can't help but smile in sincere appreciation. Draco looks at me in surprise.  But he cannot see her face, and even if he could - even if he could read her correctly - he would not _understand_.  He has much to learn.

"Or perhaps the beast belongs to one of your friends?"

A reaction!  I affect a bored drawl, trying not to let my excitement show.

"You're not going to tell me that the Boy Hero of the Wizarding World keeps unlicensed monsters under his bed?"

Clearly that's not it.  Pity.  Making _that_ public could have been very amusing.

"You might do me the courtesy of answering when you're spoken to. Evidently Hogwarts no longer considers social skills when selecting its prefects."

She glares at me but keeps her mouth firmly shut.

_Have it your way, Mudblood.  Your silences are more eloquent than your words could ever be._

I close the book and watch her closely.

"Hmmm.  We can rule out the Weasley boy, I think.  He could never afford to feed it - not, at least, if he's at all attached to his siblings."

A flash of anger at that, but not the tell-tale fear I'm looking for. That's a pity too. I really doubt Arthur Weasley's pathetic Ministry career can stand another scandal.

_Watch and learn, Draco, watch and learn._

"So," I muse, "who could it possibly be?"  I glance at my son.

"It's got to be Hagrid, surely?" he suggests.

"Hagrid?" I think about that.  "No, I doubt Hagrid would ask for veterinary help from a schoolgirl. The idiot may have no idea of how to control his monsters, but he does - unfortunately - seem to know how to keep them alive."

For some reason that gets a reaction, but I can't read it. What was that about?  Is she thinking about the monster Hagrid _didn't_ keep alive, despite her help?

Although, come to think of it, I never did find out what happened to that one in the end. All I got from the Dangerous Creatures Committee were puerile excuses \- even Macnair's account of that evening had more holes than a Gnome-infested garden.  That's the kind of ineptitude you get when you go through official channels. Soon, it will no longer be necessary to observe such tedious niceties.

I probe a little further.

"Besides," I say, addressing myself to Draco, "do you really think the lumbering oaf would want another Hippogriff, after what happened to the last one?"

He smirks, but she...

That's not fear.  That's desperation.  This is no schoolgirl secret.

_Ah, Mudblood, what glittering treasure are you trying to keep from me?_

I know where to look, now, but I'm still not sure exactly what I'm looking for.

"So, Miss Granger, am I to believe that you did find a way of saving that beast, after all?"

Her quickly suppressed panic lights the way to the truth.

"And where is it now?"  I speak softly, but add a menacing edge.  I do not appreciate her interference in that matter, not after I went to so much trouble to ensure that the creature would be destroyed. "Do you realise how severely you could be punished for protecting a fugitive?"

She freezes in horror out of all proportion to my words.

What did I say?

And then I remember the other fugitive who escaped that night. Is it really that reprobate Black she's protecting? Severus always insisted that the Potter boy had something to do with that, but I've never paid the idea much attention \- his obsession with the boy almost rivals Draco's.  But if Potter's little Mudblood friend was involved, perhaps he was onto something after all.  That piece of information is a glittering prize indeed.

Although, even according to Severus' own description of events, it doesn't make sense.  Potter's movements were completely accounted for, and from what I can gather the Mudblood was with him all that time.  They couldn't do two things at once.

But as I glance at Draco, a memory clicks into place.  One of his interminable moans about the Mudblood and her special treatment. About how she seemed to be attending _every_ optional class. I remember telling him not to be so fanciful - she couldn't be in three places at once.

It seems I may have misjudged the boy.

It rather looks as if some idiot trusted the Mudblood with a Time-Turner.  And it rather looks as if someone - someone, unless I'm very much mistaken, with a ridiculous white beard, an unfortunate affinity for outcasts and an obsession with sweets - helped her and Potter to meddle with time that night.

I almost laugh. What breathtaking audacity. What _illegal_ breathtaking audacity. If that's not enough to get rid of the old fool... not that I can prove anything, of course.  But a few carefully worded rumours in the right ears can be so much more effective than mere evidence.

But I don't want to jump to conclusions.  Just a little confirmation from the Mudblood is all I need, if I can get it without Draco guessing what I have guessed. This information is too valuable to too many important people to risk him squandering it in a schoolboy dispute.

The Mudblood fixes her gaze on the floor.  Silly child; does she really think I'm about to give up my pursuit, now that I almost have her?

I step forward. I _really_ don't like touching the creature, but at close range the sweet intensity of her distress is ample compensation. With two fingers I raise her chin, gently forcing her to look at me.

Such beautifully expressive eyes!  The purity of her hatred takes my breath away.

I look over at my son.  He has expressive eyes as well, and at the moment they're expressing puzzlement.  I wish I could trust him, but he hasn't yet shown he can be trusted.  But one day soon, I hope, we'll be able to work together.

"You see, Draco, here's another example of the prejudice we have to deal with," I tell him. "You can be sure that if it were a Slytherin who decided to take the law into her own hands, she'd get a black mark on her record. But for Dumbledore's pet Mudblood, they'll probably just set back the clock and pretend it never happened."

Nothing. She manages to keep her expression completely blank. Despite myself, I'm impressed, but the lack of response is as revealing as if she'd bared her soul.

_Wrong reaction, Mudblood.  You should have looked indignant, or at least confused._

I smile in triumph. I want her to understand that she's told me everything as clearly as if I'd fed her Veritaserum.

What now?  It's sorely tempting to finish her right here. Draco really needs to develop the backbone for this sort of thing, and it would be so fitting for the obnoxious little bookworm to end up smeared across these shelves. What better way to teach these upstart Mudbloods that nowhere is safe for them? If the Muggle-lovers want her held up as an example, I'll be only too happy to oblige.

But not yet. It would be a shame to make death so easy for her, and it really wouldn't be prudent to do so here. Besides, who knows what other pearls might be coaxed out of the mud, given the right persuasion?  It will be most enlightening to watch where she runs to.  And we do know where to find her when we want to probe her further.

I hand the book to her. "Thank you for a most illuminating discussion, Miss Granger. It's been a real pleasure to speak with you at last." I smile, relishing her loathing. "I do hope we meet again soon."

Every word so deliciously true.  And I can see that she knows it.

She suddenly realises she can move. Let her believe she actually found the strength to break my spell! She whirls around, pushes past Draco, and is gone.

_Run, Mudblood, run.  It won't do you any good in the end._

The shop bell clangs as the door slams behind her.

I do hope she remembered to pay for that book.

Draco is looking at me apprehensively, probably wondering if I'm going to punish him for letting her escape. He's afraid of me.  There's nothing fundamentally wrong with that, of course; I was terrified of my father at times, and it's not caused me any lasting problems.

But in what is to come I do need Draco as an ally.  I had hoped he would be better prepared, although even if I had sent him to Durmstrang he might only have picked up Karkaroff's brand of cowardice.  But now the time has come, and we must make the best of it.

I raise an eyebrow, with the ghost of a smile, and he relaxes.

"So that's the famous Hermione Granger?" I say. "She's rather an interesting specimen."

He scowls.  "They're all the same.  Uppity little know-it-alls with no idea how to behave.  They shouldn't even _be_ here."

That irritating whine again.  Why hasn't he learned that he needs to _act_ if he wants things to change?  When I was at Hogwarts, Malfoy was a name to be feared, not despised.

"You're absolutely right, Draco," I reply.  "They really do need to learn their place.  That creature is completely ignorant of the old ways."  I look him in the eye, so he cannot mistake my meaning.  "So wouldn't you say it's time she was taught?"

_I'll cede that pleasure to you, Draco. I hope you appreciate what a gift it is._

And when he's proven himself worthy of the task, we will work together to restore our family to its rightful prominence. No more kow-towing to the likes of Fudge. No more Mudblood freaks. The world is about to change, and it's time to act.

Let the Dark Lord do what he likes with the Potter boy.  He's waited long enough, after all.

But the Mudblood bitch is ours.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I like and respect Hermione, really I do, but her canonical record when cornered isn't the best...  
>  _[...or at least, it wasn't in early 2003.]_
> 
> The opening line, Chance favours the prepared mind, is used in the Steven Segal movie _Under Siege II_ (I think – I saw it on a bus somewhere) by a terrorist plotting world domination, so it seemed rather appropriate for Lucius. It originally comes from the French scientist Louis Pasteur; the full quote is: _In the fields of observation chance favours only the prepared mind_ , which struck me as being even more appropriate here.
> 
> This little scene arose spontaneously from some dark recess of my psyche, but while I was writing it memories of various episodes from Fyre's [Fractured Triangle](http://www.fictionalley.org/authors/fyre/FT.html) and Hijja's [A Fragile Thing](http://www.fictionalley.org/authors/hijja/AFT01a.html) kept crossing my mind. Any similarities in setting, style or dialogue are simply due to the way their characterisations resonated with me.
> 
> I originally thought this would be a one-shot, but as I was finishing it off a longer and nastier Hermione-PoV sequel crept out from the shadows. So if you liked this (and you're not allergic to in-progress fics), you might like to check out [Invictus](http://www.fictionalley.org/authors/chthonia/invictus.html) _[Sadly it's still in progress almost 10 years later, but I_ am _atill working on it]._


End file.
